Markrgrl's Story
Markrgrl Markrgrl sighed in frustration as his annoyance only grew, hand firmly grasping his wooden staff as he sat. Before him sat Garkrgrlg, Chieftain of the Razorfin tribe, an aura of arrogance surrounding him as he sat, primitive armor of coral and bone adorning him, and a spear of luxuriously high quality- to Murlocs- resting in his lap. Mark opened his mouth to speak in his own tongue; mere gargling to outsiders, but to his fellow murlocs, a language better understood than the overcomplicated speech of those who dwell further inland. "With all due respect Chieftain, don't you think your terms foolish at best with what's at stake? If your warriors are as good as you boast, surely the mere opportunity of proving your reputation is reward enough." Mark sensed the annoyance of the Chieftan, though he hardly cared- he knew it paled before his own, yet he did not show it. Not yet. Garkrgrlg responded. "If our warriors are to throw their lives away, I wish for our tribe to gain proper compensation, dear Tidecaller! If you have achieved as much as you have, truly you can afford some humble tribute to me and my-" Mark quickly cut him off, no longer caring to put up with the Chief''s persistance. "And yours would be the only tribe to recieve any. The other tribes gathered on these reefs came with these supplies on their own accord, because they recognize the threat we face. They are not fools." The Chieftain gave him an insulting glare, tension suddenly reaching an all-time high within the primitive tent they were seated in. "Are you calling me a fool, Markrgrl?" "Yes. And if you do not wish to contribute, then you may feel free to leave- though know that Cyprena's blessing will receede from your people, and I wish you luck should you truly wish to take such action- or rather, lack thereof." Mark felt pleased with himself as he looked upon the chieftain before him. He was backed into a corner, and they both knew it. After a moment of silence, the chieftain finally spoke, doing his best to sound humble- though his rage clearly shone through his words. "Very well. My tribe shall aid you in this foolish quest of yours. Have my warriors! But know that if my tribe faces annihilation on this day, yours will be the hands stained in their blood." Mark did not gain the opportunity to reply as a messenger entered the tent, spear in hand, looking agitated. "Prophet! The seers have sent for you, they say it is urgent!" Markrgrl nodded at the messenger, pushing himself up on his feet. He gave Chief Garkrgrlg one final, stern look before exiting. Outside the tent, Mark saw the scene he had left behind. Primitive buildings built upon reefs far out at sea, built just recently to accomodate a gathering of tribes upon the collection of reefs he had chosen as his temporary base of operations. By murloc standards, this was a huge gathering- a dozen or more tribes, hundreds of murlocs, all working in union. A trio of old, grizzled murlocs, all from different tribes, all united under the watchful gaze of their new godess, the Thresher ancient Cyprena, approached Mark. "What have you seen, old ones?" "The time is upon us," one of them said "the tribes shall take to the waters, and fight for the fate of our people. Though how this will end, we do not know." Mark gave a single, firm nod. He then reached for a horn hanging at his side, attached to his kilt. He raised it to his fishlike lips and blew it, causing a loud, booming noise to echo across the waves. In mere moments, the hordes of murlocs organized themselves, each holding a weapon or two of some kind, and every murloc standing by their respective tribe. There was no need for words. They had all seen what awaited them, and were prepared for the worst. Mark left the reef he was standing on, and walked into the water, disappearing amongst the waves. The tribes did the same, and in mere minutes, the once sprawling reefs were nearly empty save for a few who had remained, should the worst happen. Several minutes passed by, nothing but the endless blue and the hordes of murlocs right behind him. He could not see her, but he knew Cyprena was nearby, prepared to join the battle to which they were headed. He reached out to the ocean as he swam, extending his sight- and he saw ships. Countless ships, waterborne and airborne alike, from all factions and races, all headed to a single location with a single goal. Then he saw it before him- beaches of blackened, charred sand, and a pillar of green flame in the distance. Battle had already been joined, that much was clear, but not on the particular beach he saw before him. He finally reached it and stepped on land, and with him, the army of Murlocs he had built set foot on the Broken Shore. Category:Where are they now? (Season 1)